


Fennel

by diemarysues



Series: A King and her Burglar [9]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Dwobbits, F/F, Female Bilbo, Female Thorin, Prompt Fill, well just the one really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-29
Updated: 2013-04-29
Packaged: 2017-12-09 22:20:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/778622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/diemarysues/pseuds/diemarysues
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I bastardised a prompt fill to get it to fit into a fic about Bilbo' and Thorin's little dwobbit.</p><p>Prompt: <i>ooo fem!thorin and fem!bilbo, eeeeeh? have you done anything silly and domestic involving hair-braiding? </i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Fennel

**Author's Note:**

> Just... don't ask.
> 
> Sequel to [Contribution](http://archiveofourown.org/works/750437) and [Footling.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/770358)

If there was one thing to be thankful about, it was that the dark hair currently in Thorin’s hands was not as unmanageable as a certain bow-wielding nephew of hers. However, the morning’s routine would go a lot smoother if her son would stop squirming about in his seat.

 

Honestly, the boy could try even _Bilbo’s_ patience.

 

“Fennin, if you do not sit still, your braids will be uneven. Do you want that?”

 

“Don’t want braids, ‘ _Amad_ ,” her son said crankily.

 

Thorin sighed. Kíli was a terrible influence. “Well, you’re wearing them. Else you’ll not be accompanying me today; I’ll just leave you with your uncle Glóin.”

 

“No! No, no, no, no! I promise I’ll be good!”

 

“Clever lad,” Thorin said smugly.

 

“What are you threatening him with this time?” called Bilbo.

 

“Oh, nothing, dear one. Just comparing my braiding skills to Glóin’s.” She could almost see Bilbo’s wince.

 

“You’re spiteful.”

 

“I know.” Thorin placed the last clasp and kissed the top of Fennin’s head. “There. All done. Don’t pull them out, or it’s off to the Treasury for you.”

 

Her wife emerged from the bathroom, pushing a pin into her crown of braids. It was a pin topped with cut garnet; Thorin smiled. “And what do we say?” Bilbo asked pointedly.

 

“‘nk you, ‘ _Amad_.”

 

“You’re welcome.” The King scooped the Dwarf-Hobbit up into her arms and rubbed her bearded cheek against his, tickling him and making him squeal happily. She reached for her burglar. “When will you be back?”

 

“Before the year is out, ideally.”

 

“That would be more reassuring if it wasn’t currently _March_.”

 

Bilbo sighed, pressing her nose to Thorin’s shoulder. “I know. But it’s not like we have much of a choice.”

 

“You could send someone in your place,” Thorin muttered. She’d been trying to convince Bilbo to do so since they’d received the summons from Rivendell. “And yes. I know that’s not going to happen. I’d just rather not think about you being away for so many months.”

 

“I’ll miss you too,” she murmured gently, tiptoeing to kiss Thorin.

 

“Mama! You’re squishing me!”

 

* * *

 

It had only been a week and Thorin was ready to give up. Returning to an empty bed every night had been torture, and the temptation to swing herself onto the back of the fastest pony in the stables and gallop after her wife was at an all-time high.

 

But.

 

“Hush.” Thorin tightened the circle of her arms. “Hush, now, my darling. Come, you must stop your tears.”

 

“Want Mama!”

 

Her heart broke a little. Smoothing Fennin’s hair away from his tearstained face, she said, “I know. I know. I want you to listen to me very carefully.”

 

Fennin blinked up at her with huge hazel eyes; his were more green than Bilbo’s, especially with the dark hair surrounding his face.

 

“I want your Mama back too. But she’s got important work to see to, and she has to travel very, very far. She promised that she’ll be back by winter, so we have to be patient.” She took a breath. “Do you understand?”

 

“No – want Mama!” His lower lip wobbled.

 

Sighing, Thorin let her son bury his face in her tunic, and rubbed his back gently. “Me too, _inùdoy_. Me too.”

 

She sent a silent prayer that Mahal would make time move more swiftly.

 

* * *

 

She had a headache. An excruciatingly painful one that felt like lightning was streaking from under her left eye to the back of her head, frying her brains in the process. She wasn’t quite sure if the newly developing throbbing at the base of her skull was connected to it or not. She didn’t really care.

 

At present, what she did care about was the fact that Fennin had managed to climb all the way to the top of the bookshelf.

 

If Bilbo had been here, Thorin would be dead by now. As soon as the thought crossed her mind, the King snorted to herself. If her wife had been here, their son would be quietly in bed. (And then Thorin would make sure the bedroom door was locked before taking her wife to _their_ bed.)

 

“Fennin,” she snapped, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Get down from there before you fall.”

 

“‘ _Amad_ , I can see aaaaall the way from up here! I’m tall!”

 

Thorin growled. While Dwarflings were quite robust and could survive a fall onto their heads from that height, no one was sure if the same applied to half-Hobbits. She certainly didn’t want to risk it.

 

“ _Which one of you_ imbeciles _is responsible for this_?” she asked lowly. Luckily enough, Fennin didn’t know enough Khuzdul to be able to understand what she was saying. Yet. “ _Hurry and admit to your crime, else I’ll fetch Orcrist and bleed it out of you_.”

 

Fíli shuffled forwards. “ _It was me, Aunt._ ”

 

Thorin narrowed her eyes. Her heir was not lying.

 

“ _I only… he was upset over Auntie Bilbo’s absence, so I thought, I thought some sweets would keep him quiet._ ”

 

As if on cue, a loud shriek broke through the air, and the Dwarves winced.

 

“ _Do you think that’s_ quiet _, Fíli? How many times have we said; no sugar after teatime._ ” She made a slashing motion with her hand as Fíli made to protest. “ _No. I don’t want to hear it. You get up there, and you get him down_ now.”

 

“I’ve got him, Thorin.” Kíli jumped off the third-to-lowest shelf, Fennin secure in his arms.

 

The King wanted to sag with relief, but kept her expression stern. “Give him here, Kíli.”

 

“‘re you angry, ‘ _Amad_?” At least he had the decency to look guilty in the face of Thorin’s frown.

 

“You made me _worried_ , Fennin. You shouldn’t have climbed up so high – and even though you did, you should have _listened_ when I asked you to come back down.” She attempted to flatten the hair on his head, but soon gave it up as a lost cause. “What would I have told your Mama if you’d hurt yourself?”

 

At the mention of his Mama, Fennin grew more upset. Thorin could understand why Fíli had caved and given him sweets – not that it excused the decision. She set her jaw and placed Fennin into her older nephew’s arms before anyone could protest.

 

“You’ll be staying with your cousin tonight, _inùdoy_ ,” said Thorin, and ignored Fíli’s squawk. “As punishment for you both.”

 

“But, aunt –!”

 

“‘ _Amad_!”

 

“Kíli, come.”

 

* * *

 

After the last dispute of the day had been settled, and the Dwarves in question had walked out of the double doors of the audience room, Thorin sighed expressively and leaned back against the back of her throne. Balin leaned towards her.

 

“Thorin… do you really think you should be letting little Fennin tag along while you deal with disgruntled miners and guild leaders?”

 

“I’ve been doing it for near nine months, Balin.” Thorin frowned. “I myself was allowed to attend such meetings when I was his age.”

 

“That may be, but Bilbo might not be very agreeable to the idea of Fennin… picking up new words.”

 

The King snorted. “He fell asleep before the worst of it.” And indeed, her son was happily snoozing in the crook of her arm, thumb tucked into his mouth. “Is there anything else I need to see to?” She’d quite like to return to her quarters and join Fennin, now that all was said and done. Settling arguments was exhausting.

 

“There is one more thing left on the agenda.”

 

“Which is?”

 

Balin smiled at her gently. “The delegation from Rivendell is due to arrive in an hour.”

 

Thorin felt a little guilty about waking Fennin. But he’d understand.

 

* * *

 

“Mama! _Mama_!”

 

Bilbo laughed delightedly as she lifted Fennin into her arms. She hugged him tightly enough that he squeaked, and then pulled back to pepper kisses on his forehead. “Oh, my seedling, how I _missed_ you.”

 

“Miss’d you too, Mama!”

 

Thorin stepped forward, placing a hand in the middle of Bilbo’s back. “We all did.”

 

Her wife’s smile trembled slightly as she looked up at Thorin. When their foreheads pressed together, she exhaled shakily and fisted a hand in a silk tunic.

 

“I’m not going to leave Erebor until Fennin’s old enough to be left behind.” Their son made a complaining noise. “Maybe not even then.”

 

“That pleases me,” Thorin said, grinning, and stole a kiss. Oh, oh, _oh_ , and how that felt like coming _home_. She sighed against Bilbo’s mouth, lazily curling their tongues together and drowning in the longed-for taste of her wife.

 

“Now, now.” Bilbo pulled back. A heavy blush stained her face and Thorin couldn’t help but swipe her thumb under one cheekbone. “There’ll be time enough for that later.” Her eyes were full of intense promise and Thorin pulled her close.

 

“I’m glad you’re back.”

 

“As am I.” She smiled brilliantly, stealing the King’s breath away. “But I think, right now, I’ll be gladder for a bath.”

 

Thorin chuckled and started to lead them to their quarters. They’d fill each other in on their months apart – _later_. Bilbo tweaked Fennin’s nose. “Did you have fun with your ‘ _Amad_ , my darling?”

 

He nodded furiously. “‘Amad took me t’ meetings with her.”

 

Bilbo shot Thorin an annoyed look – one which went innocently ignored. “And did you behave?”

 

“Of course he did.”

 

“I was asking Fennin,” Bilbo sniped, though without any annoyance in her tone. “Were the meetings boring, seedling?”

 

“No!” Fennin exclaimed, hugging Bilbo around her neck. “They was bollocks!”

 

Bilbo froze. Thorin closed her eyes.

 

Bollocks, indeed.

**Author's Note:**

> Don't ask why I sent Bilbo to Rivendell. I don't know either. Ssh.
> 
> Here's some useless information for you: in Italy, fennel is slang for homosexual. ~The more you know~
> 
> Neo-Khuzdul:  
> 'Amad = mother  
> inùdoy = son
> 
> As for Fennin's name... I wanted a name that started with F, and I also wanted to incorporate the Hobbit tradition of naming their children after flowers (though that's supposed to be for the girls but ssh). So Fennel turned into Fennin =) (And Bilbo calls him her little fennel seedling because I think it's cute)


End file.
